The Last Waltz

Dance with the macabre.......

 

 

The Last Waltz

 

Seduced I am by the face of vanity and disfigurement, my

jaw shattered from the {BONDAGE}

of our osculation, my

mouth leeched by sharpened tongue exhausted in salutation.

You play my ribs as if I were the

=strings= on your cello,

but these bones crumble as you strum

higher and higher, my

voice and screams you use to orchestrate Death's choir. 

 

Our diaphragms making love in perverse disagreement, I

ask thee to have mercy on my soul that begs to breathe.

I know your cadaverous mind can see

and hear me, but

instead, you stifle my vitality, ignoring each and every plea.  

 

What provokes you to graze in my dismantled flesh?

Is it the promenade between my stomach and breast, or

do you crave the vigor that hides within 

my open chest?

I waltz with you in servitude and as a willing sacrifice, you

take the lead with every step, twitch,

and pulsating beat.

Catching me as I sway, arching my back, and vertebrae,

bleeding jewel-like rubies, adorning my fears from yesterday.

 

Sweeping me around the tempest void that shadows song.

You devour what is left; I feel no pain......

I feel no wrong.

Author's Note

Artist.......Michael Hussar

Reviews

[J.V. Stanley]

Hauntingly seductive, the words play well upon my ear as I read it aloud. Feels like love torn apart and the empty shells, skeletons remain playing to each other still with the devouring love and that power that holds upon the woman. It seems as though the male figure has a sort of power over the female counterpart within this piece and how weak and vulnerable she is to the seductive techniques used by the male figure.

Our diaphragms making love in perverse disagreement, I
ask thee to have mercy on my soul that begs to breathe.

These lines cause me to imagine an argument between two lovers who constantly seem to quarrel and no matter how much the female in this piece begs for reprieve, none is given ultimately ending with-

You devour what is left; I feel no pain......
I feel no wrong.

in essence succumbing to the fact that he had won, yet inside is strongly convinced of her rightness but no longer willing to argue about it. At least this is how I interpreted the poem. Ultimately its an amazing piece of work, quite amazing in its structure. I have a fascination with dark poetry such as this. Definitely going into my favorites. I had to reread it about five times and enjoyed it more and more with each read :)

[Kimberly "Melody" Carne..]

WOW! An amazing write crafted of the dark seductiveness only a gifted mind can create!

[Λsylum Ƣo&#..]

you rocked the house with this penning . . . darkly marvelous and great use of word variations.

[Whiskurz]

Your word choices are simply amazing making this a most enjoyable read.....Well penned my friend......Whisk

[shultzfeather]

very nice

[SHEEMA HUQ]

A disturbing account, I was gripped! Good writing. Thanks.

[Jeanmarie Flaherty]

"you play my ribs as if I were the strings on your cello" I know that feeling. This is so much more than a moment, there a draining and nothing more than flesh. You have written with such dissociation, one speaking of one watching herself being devoured, with more interest than horror, fantastic.

It can't be making love if the love is hidden, it's more like feeding, like the moment in which the soul is swallowed. Beautiful :)

[Pax Analog]

Wow! The image cues the verse well and it writhes out like a determined coitus w/fear, pain, time, death, the dark joke of incarnational crumbling.

And out of all that natural grotesquerie Love emerges standing free of form & implication. Like, hey, matter's already made of no-thing -- mortality can't touch fierce awaring.

[Potter]

When reading this I kept thinking the same thing. The words are so nicely arranged, have you thought of recording your voice reciting this? and then putting it on this site somehow, or maybe at youtube.

I have the feeling that these words simply need to be heard. The additional sense used might really add to this.

Excellent job overall though. You are a telented writer.

[Patrick]

......and breathe... the picture reminded me of the Village, strangely.

[...]

Saturating!!